The Karma Police totally came and arrested this man

Ok, so I'm done ranting about the camera ordeal. UPS came, I rejected the package. I actually felt kind of bad for the guy, he looked like a beaten dog and I think he might have been just about to die of exhaustion. I didn't even have the heart to make any of the digs I spent days dreaming up. I was going to say things like "The Mail got here, UPS sucks" and "Fedex got here, UPS sucks" and things along that line but I looked at him and just realized that would be the extra petty icing on the petty cake and that since I'd already bought a camera and wasn't in fact waiting for the package anymore, I could just look at that and be happy and get over it. (note: it was still a little satisfying to reject it. I actually said "I reject this" Empowering.)

Before I cam to this place of understanding though, the Universe caught a whiff of my bad juju though and sent the postman a knocking with some NOT COOL stuff. I'm all "stupid UPS the mail can get here. I LOVE the mail. I HATE the UPS. The mail is awesome."

and then the mailman drops off a tax bill. Sha-bam!

From 2007 return, which was for 2006, which was an exceedingly stupid year for me, when I hired a person even worse than myself at filling out forms to help me with my taxes, and then I forgot to bring a W-2 for a job I held for a few months- contract position, no taxes withheld of course. So in the end, my fault, and it's taxes I should have to pay blah blah blah but it compounds the fact that for the 2009 year, I already have to pay what I consider an inconvenient sum. We switched banks or something at work, which coincided with my getting a raise so when I saw a bump in my paycheck, I presumed it was the raise at work.

I was half right. It was also the new bank at work, because they randomly decided to WAY under withhold my state taxes (for reasons my comptroller has still not been able to define) so that this year when I filed, TurboTax was all "ummm, we don't know how to tell you this but your refund is MINUS Sum X" and I was all "TT, dude. Do the math again. I claim whatever is the number where they hold a lot out" and TT was all "umm, nope we're right. Get out your checkbook. Look how much less you paid last year than the year before" and they were right so I called my comptroller and she was all "Ohhh yeah, how weird. I have no idea what happened.", which makes 2 of us, but it made me pretty sad to owe X amount of dollars. Then I got over it, and began my campaign of hate against UPS and bragging about how awesome my femailman was, and then she brought me a bill which means I know owe 2X amount of dollars. Double down and turn the corner!

Gross right ? So anyway, I did what anyone would do, which is go into the kitchen and start 4 burners and an oven's worth of food and make a crazy elaborate dinner for HN and myself, and while he wondered what he did to win the lottery and tried to ask without asking if today was our anniversary or something special (which in retrospect I should have had more fun with), I drank wine and took increasingly "artistic" (off center) photos of my food with my new camera and tried to forget all about the stupid "mail" and "tax bills".

I have the pics to prove it, but as it is now 4:30am and my airport ride will be here at 5:30 am (not going anywhere awesome, and my car is still buried) I must shower and not sit around transferring and editing weirdo semi drunken food pics. So that's that and I'll be back with food pics later, and maybe I'll also tell you about my whack nighttime experience, but I will definitely tell you that cinnamon and cardamom before bed result in some f*cked up dreams, so if you're going to make Moroccan food you might want to leave a bigger window between eating and going to sleep than you normally would.

Here's a little something for your trouble though. It's Kitty, contemplating what his life would have been like if he'd gone off to college like his parents wanted him to instead of settling down with his high school sweetheart and having babies immediately.